My hair is twisted into a sloppy up-do. Because of my haste to leave the house this morning, I have no make-up on. My skirt is stylish and has a nice matching jacket, but it is long and does not show off my legs to their best advantage. Yet today is one of the few days Casey showed up in the office.
"Why do you show up when I look like crap?" I asked him when I saw him in the hall.
"What do you mean?" he asked, seemingly sincerely.
"I've got my glasses on, no make-up. This skirt is comfortable, but you can't see a damned thing. I had some pretty hot days last week, but you weren't here to see them. Hell, on the day we had our health clinic, I had to take my blouse off in the conference room; I even had a matching lace bra on. You missed out on that. But THIS," as I gestured from head to boot, "is what you get to see?!"
"No, I like the pencil in the hair. That's a good look for you," he smirked. "Tell you what- I'll send you an email warning you next time."
"As well you should. I'd hate for you to miss out on the wonder that is me."
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